


By her side

by Loveforthestory



Category: Revolution TV
Genre: Brothers, Comfort, F/M, Home, a warm embrace, finding love again, her by his side, things that were, three people and their connection, warm baths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveforthestory/pseuds/Loveforthestory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the world grows a bit darker, she is there with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. As the world grew a bit darker

Bass lets the baseball go through his hands as sits on his bed, his back against the wall. He is still in his uniform. Boots, a green shirt covering his chest. He does not care. Outside his window he could hear boots hitting the concrete as a loud voice was shouting orders. His boys out there too. The room empty, the colours blank and at the same time all consuming as he lets the room take him.

It is a Sunday afternoon. The sun is casting through the room, turning the room slowly into deeper shadows as the day wears on.

Out there, everything moves on with routine. Structure. Rhythm.

Not for him.

* * *

Charlie let the hinges of her bag fall heavy into her fingers.

She is being escorted onto base.

A cab to the airport. She had plans to go hiking, tracking, hair loose in the wind, being outside but those plans don't matter anymore. The gates of the base now in sight as she is greeted with a stern nod and moved into the facility. The pavement under her heels grey under the sun.

SHe is here to get him. To bring him home.

She pushes her fingers into her palms.

Another hallway. An empty trash can in a darker corner of a room where the door is open A Xerox machine, a water bottle. Blue paint on the wood of the door stations. Paintings and pictures in glass frames on the walls. Uniforms, badges. Short greeting with contained faces. She tries to read the names on the doors,  _Colonel Farber, Sergeant Drexel_ but they are moving too fast.

The private that escorted her, moves to the right.

'If you would wait here, Miss Matheson.' She looks up at him, he is not much older than her. A boyish face.

She just nods back, a small almost shy smile that she cannot help here in this world she only knows from the stories from her uncle, as she sits on one of the black chairs that is placed with another in front of a small low table and against a wall. Her bag on the her lap, touching the other chair. She moves her feet around her heels, as the tip of her other boot subtlety is guided inwards towards the other.

She waits, and then she is escorted again, as she hears the voice she has heard before on the phone. He reaches out his hand and his face changes, finally giving him some softer more features she can respond to in the middle of all this protocol.

'Sergeant Folker, ma'm. My deepest condolences to you and your family.' He extends his hand. 'We spoke on the phone. Please follow me.'

A light brown door in a small hallway. An office with daylight streaming in.

He gestures to an empty chair in front a big desk.

She expects him in the room. As the door opens she realises, of course he isn't.

* * *

There is a knock. His first instinct, his training deep inside, is still telling him to get up. But he does not give a fuck. Or maybe he just cannot manage to give a fuck anymore.

The door opens as he looked past green and boots. And there, he sees her. A part of Miles that is all of sudden in the room with him. Wide blue eyes, as her shoulders are tensed but yet, a calm energy around her. She steps into the room, her heels on the floor of the room.

'Ma'm.' The sergeant nods at her and closes the door behind her.

'Bass, I am so sorry.' She almost moves over to him, but sees his eyes close off. He looks at her, as he pressed his lips together, making his face older, more worn, as a frown appears in his forehead. Stubble that indicates he has not bother to shave. She remembers Bass as clean shaven, all ego, a softer layer under that. But now , he is darker. Stubble on smooth skin.

The room is silent, too silent. Pens are laying still in a small square container on the window sill. The venetian blinds in front of the window as stripes of grieve.

Hell, he is fucking glad she does not move closer. He can't open that shield around him. Not now. And her, her empathy, she could ruin that shield too soon.

'I am taking you to Jasper now, Bass. Our plane leaves in two.' Her voice is determined but soft and touching at the same time.

Charlie chooses her words carefully as her mind was going to choose home instead of Jasper. It still is his home, but she knows it won't be the same anymore.

He huffed. He looked at the back in front of him as he bitterly darkly shakes his head a bit. Jasper, home. Whatever. When he left he had them all.

Charlie looked at the runway just out there, placed in front of the many building of the facility. She looks around in the room. She sees his bag is still open, as she moves over to him and gently pulls on the zipper until it is closed.

Charlie reaches for his wide arm with her arm. Her fingers warm on the bare skin right under the short sleeve of his green t shirt.

He looks at the bed in front of him, pulling big breaths of air in, his jaws locked. She pulls back.

He turns, swings the bag over his shoulder and walks out of the room. She follows his wide steps as she closes her jacket that fell open. Charlie is slowly following him, as she is just there. It is all she can do as she walks next to Bass, another hallway, but now, his long body, black boots and a bag over his wide shoulder next to hers.

* * *

Somewhere on the other way of the ocean, Miles looks out the large windows.

Bass.

Gail, talking, laughing, smiling talking about new recipes, moping in a friendly way because William has left his slippers somewhere in the room. William, explaining them with patience and a smile on his face about woman, movies, or music they learned to appreciate while asking Cynthia how late she will be home. Cynthia who finishes her homework fast and then sneaks out, stays out late and puts too much make up on a face that does not need make up. Cynthia who giggles with Angela, making him blush when she got older.

When he arrived here, he got the news. And somehow between home and here, Bass had lost his home. And he had been all the hell over here.

 _Get me a phone. Now._ He had barked as his face had twisted in impatience and frustration, helplessness and the dark pain that was about to take him. Fuck, he sure as hell needed a cigarette and some whiskey.

The phone connected to another on the other side of the world.

 _Pick the hell up. Come on._ He begged roughly in his head.

The clear voice on the other side of the line reached him as he closed his eyes.

_Hey kid, it's me._

The people who grew up with him, that were always there as home.

He was realistic enough to know that nothing lasted for ever. But somehow in his home town, the town of summer, and nights in the dark trying a first cigarette, or a girl, or bullshitting each other about tattoos they wanted to get, his guitar in his room, Bass' room and the posters against his wall, and their first beers, their first hangovers and school and Emma, time stood still. Things were good.

Always would never be anymore.

Time  _had_  moved on. As the world grew a bit darker.

Lights had faded as his feet would touch down on his home ground, his country.

And the good in that world, diminished. As their stories had ended now.

Bass, who will never be the same. His eyes turn in the distance as he is home as he sits there, on stupid plastic chairs in an airport, his stubble on his face, as he will leave soon. All those miles back with a heavy heart and a whiskey in his hands. His friend too far, out of reach.

In another airport on the other side of the ocean Bass sits down on stupid meaningless plastic chairs. Soon. Soon he would have to get up again.

Charlie had gotten some coffee, but never let him out of her sight. Legs wide, blue eyes, lips in a thin line. His shoulders against the backseat of the chair. His hands fiddling with his passport. The loss deepened in him, as he sat there.

Charlie moved next to him as she did not speak. He was silent, nothing like the kind of macho but still completely okay guy. It had been months since she had seen him but he was changed. She knew that for sure. Her knee touched his, her smaller leg against his stern leg and boot. She could feel the laces. She could feel the misery next to her. Their bodies locked close through their legs, as Bass was miles away. The coffee he did not wanted but she still got for him getting cold in her hands. And it broke a piece of her heart, right there in the middle of the waiting room in the busy airport.

* * *

As I am watching season one again, I get new ideas and the story melts with my writing. I wanted to let her walk, literally, into the base and into that part of the story. That scene was in my head first. This one was in my notebook for a while. You probably recognise the scene where Miles and Bass are at base. But this time, Miles was overseas. It is fun ( the writing, not the place in time she walks into) to place Charlie there, on base, at that moment in time. Instead of hearing about it from Bass or maybe from Miles or somebody else, she is there in the dynamics. Let her be there, now with Miles and Bass. I am currently also working on two other stories: you will see more of them soon. Thank you for reading, and as always, if you have time, I would love to hear from you! Love from Love


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When season one meets season two, this story continues. Bass is on his way home, after the world is so much different, with Charlie.

Home

They have grabbed a cab from the airport.

Charlie watched tight muscled and sturdy arms throw his bag into the cab in a gesture and movement that is equally closed off as it is covered in misery.

They have not talked.

For one second, the fingers resting on his upper leg are close to her fingers, but she stills her hand as his other hand leans with his elbow into the door of the cab, his fingers curled and his hand folded over his mouth, his fingers touching his lips.

Bass feels her there, sitting next to does. But he needs to keep his fingers and hand close to his mouth, as a barrier between her and him. Drill new boys, hang out with Miles later to grab some beers. Their joined green shirts sitting closely together, while tanned arms, his with darker hair, his own with lighter hair and freckles, as it has always grab a beer and talk shit about their day. Whine, jerk around, laugh.

Instead he is here, in this fucking place where he does not want to be. It could have been so simple.

Time that is compressed in a place where it does funny things as he walks next to the bushes at the side of the street. Bushes he used to hide in with Miles. The tree, growing ever since he can remember, before the house, growing strong, with a thick branch and green leaves, meandering to the sky, framing the house with green shutters next to white wooden windows and square glasses. A porch.

 **1716**. His house. Home.

But the sky is silent. He can almost see the white light behind the windows, as he hears the crickets and remembers a younger Miles on the couch splayed out after a beer to many, a woman they both loved and the rug in the living room. His mind taking him back there somehow, as his face softens, his lips almost turn into a smile. A habit, a fucking habit of memories meeting him there.

The walls, painted by his dad because his mom loved the yellow so much, it reminded her of Europe and the trip there she never got to make, not keeping the ones he loves.

Loved. Whatever.

Don't think about that.

Four steps are waiting in front of him.

Four steps and he is home.

And he can never say, never look back and say, I walked those stairs home.

After he takes them, it is over.

He feels the standing of Charlie next to him.

He draws a deep breath, that comes out with a shake of his head.

Charlie know he is deciding something. She can see it in the eyes that linger everywhere, and him unable to meet his eyes. She wishes Miles was here. She never felt his absence so heavy as she does now. But she stands, because she is Charlie. And she can do this. For him.

She lets him be as she is in a dark awe of the lingering motionless of the house. Bass looks around. Feels, senses. His jaws clenching so hard together it hurts.

He sees the rug in the living room, soft blue and patterns of sand and golden orange, where he had opened Christmas Presents with his sisters so many times.

A magazine and a notebook near the lamp her mom gotten from that market he hated. The magazine still open. Waiting.

The marble pattern of the kitchen top, soft in the light of this day. A green towel on the side of one of the couches.

The books, filled with history, of his dad. Books he had gotten to know as his own as his father could tell stories like no one else could, swiping him into the world of battles, right there safely under his father's arm next to him on the couch when he was just a kid.

The floor sounds under his boots.

He looks at the stairs. He walks up. Going on with a torture he is inflicting on himself. But he can't stop. He wants to be there, but at the same time, he can't. So Bass keeps on moving, like he always did as a Marine, outrunning what would be next. The assault of emotions already lingering heavy in the air.

And then, when he reaches Angela's bed room with a sweet softness of a woman that is yet with one step into the world of being a girl, it all stops. The rims of the grieve touching him, as he does not know who to grieve first.

The rim of his grieve touching him, as he feels the heavy wave and he does not know how to carry that. The certainty there in the pressure of numbing tears in his throat that he will have to. He always loved having his family close, loving them, laughing with them, his family. His.

You won't be anyone's kid anymore.

He does not know how to stand anymore.

You won't ever be a big brother.

His eyes, his sight blurs. The heavy tears falling over his honey blonde eyelashes.

He stumbles, reaches for the bed and hits the floor.

Charlie hears the wail that is rough on a breath. She feels her instincts telling her she needs to be with him.

She finds him in the bedroom upstairs. His back is against the bed with a pink coverlet that has symbols of all that is all 16 year old. The frame of his back shakes.

She slowly guides herself next to him. She can feel him tense up.

Bass knows she has already see him cry. But he still can't... he can't feel her touch. He wants to sit, wallow in his own misery.

Charlie's face moves into a determined stretch of features. She pulls him closer by drawing an arm over him. He might push her out, but she won't let him.

He can be all tough and strong but he can't fight this.

Bass wants to push her out, he really fucking does.

But then her willingness to fight, to sit here and not move away when he can't bear her for him to see, deep inside moves something.

He starts to cry harder, in a cry of agony and pain, wanting to curl up in some foetal position and never get the hell up. He meets her, somewhere against her shoulder and then he is there. His head in her lap. She moves her fingers over the curls that are playing with the rim of his ear, they are light blonde and hers to caress, as the motion of her hands seem to calm him down. The dark brown hair, silk with sweat and tears shoved away from his cheeks rest against the skin that starts to flow towards his jaw.

Charlie does not know how to carry so much of grieve with her without crying. Warm tears that fall over his face now too.

'I am so sorry, Bass.' She whispers. It is the same thing she tells him, but it is the same thing there is to tell.

Bass feels her cry. Her tears falling a corner of something they share, a corner of safe. And it is in her tears, for his family, for him, he finds some comfort.

Her voice is soft, so god damn soft. Her touch strong. Not in the tips of her fingers, but in the way she carries him now.

Charlie is quiet. After he pulled a hand over his face and waits, in silence, he moved out a hand for her, she accepts with her slender fingers in his hand, they move back from the silent place they shared tears.

He pulls back, she can feel it. The first wave over as they head to the kitchen.

She knows it will be the first of many. As calm salty sting of tears in the back of your nose gets replaced by another one building up, ready to rip you apart. Again.

And Again.

They eat. They sit. The share a beer.

Bass looks at his right. The beer still in his hand as he can feel it again. Another shrapnel that forever rearranges who he is.

They sit.

And then the hear the sound of a familiar car.

Charlie watches Bass pressing his lips together as he takes a swig of beer. Then he can't anymore. The beer falls silent against the kitchen counter tops below him. He puts it down. He feels the outburst of grieve. And when he sees the mirror and the keychain on it from his dad, his dad that is supposed to be here, he can't bear it anymore. His hand crashes into the mirror.

Charlie looks startled as she looks at the sad punch Bass delivers as his face is locked in so much pain she does not recognise his face anymore. Before she can reach him, Bass has started walking.

Drops of blood on the floor.

Miles has been riding. The road taking too long as he needs to be with him, with her. Reach home, make sure they are both all right as he dreads it at the same time with a weight around his boots that makes it uneasy to move on. Miles Matheson. Give him a fight, and he fights it.

But this, he is not sure who to fight this. How to deal with this.

He needs to reach home.

And so he does.

He makes the last familiar turn after he has reached the sign that says Welcome to Jasper.

The hand on the steering wheel.

He stops the engine.

And then, with a face of grieve and sadness he steps out of the car.

The front door opens. Bass gets out of the house. His hands empty, his hands bloody , shaking as he looks so lost it makes Miles want to drive to his own knees. He looks so completely lost, looking at his own hands as he walks down the porch steps, a long breath in, filled with contained tears as his little brother's face changes. Miles takes the steps towards Bass fast, dropping car keys onto the ground. He catches Bass, his whole face one wail of grieve as tears mixed with saliva drops from his mouth. Right before Miles catches him, Bass starts to cry, rough cries, that twist his sounds into the moment Miles can't contain his own. Bass falls into Miles arms, as Miles shoves an arm under his armpit to steady him and feels Bass' weight collapse against his side and against the side of his body. Bass crying inwardly as he feels his brothers weight against his body.

His dark eyes bewildered and filled with tears as he holds Bass and both men are one heap on the fucking ground as Charlie filled with tears as her own and a cloth in her hand, watches both men from the porch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank you so much for reading! I know this is not an easy story. Oh this story is so hard to write, but the moments of support, brotherhood, family and comfort are shining through. That is what this story is about and we will work towards. Love from Love


	3. Our last goodbye

_Our last goodbye_

Emma. He remembered her kindness. Her eyes. He remembered more eyes. All on him. Before the last moments with his family, after when there was food and booze. He had watched Charlie talking to some tall dark haired guy. People were watching. Whispers.

He had sat there, more tears. This time silent ones as Miles had set next to him. The bench hard and cold. Charlie close. She was older, or maybe he just seen her in a different light now he was by her side.

Ben. Rachel. His old teachers, his old friends. As he had not been able to speak. He felt fucking pathetic for it, when Miles had to step in and his strong pat on his shoulder had kept him from tuning out completely. Ben had spoken. Balanced beautiful words. Charlie had stood close. Rachel had nodded at him. Miles had never left his side.

It had been their last goodbye.

Until he could not take it anymore. He slipped away. After seeing Emma, after seeing Charlie, slightly younger but whos hair he caught in the wind, as an image of still things that were moving around him, like they did not concern him, when she was talking to the son of Neville. Of course she was. All tallness. His eyes went inside. To the pictures of his family. Smiling in frames. He almost punched the frames down. Not going through with it because of their smiles. He did not want to look at their pictures.

He wanted his family back.

And now he is here. Sitting on the ground, the scent of grass close. The night covering over his head.

He is not supposed to be out here. He does not give a fuck. If someone is going to give him one more well meant hug he will deck them.

The bottle of whiskey on the ground between jeans clad legs. He had let his father's Daniels burn through him. His face endless wet.

He had replaced the stuff he had been wearing earlier for jeans and a jacket. He would burn the damn stuff if that meant never ever having to remember the day. This, his own jeans and shirt, was what had to do. Not that it mattered.

The eyes on the swelling of dirt and earth before him. Flowers on top of dark earth that felt so out of place. He knew they were there. His mom. His dad. His sisters. And that thought, it drove him to his knees.

It had driven him to his father's closet as he took his father's handgun. He had cocked the weapon, closed the door and had walked out silently. Slipped away.

He was here. The one left. But he could not be here.

* * *

Miles had been looking for him. He had yelled at Charlie towards the house he was going. He sits behind the wheel as he thinks back through the hours.

Both Bass and him, without words, putting on their suits in the room together. Charlie who walks over to adjust his tie, the thing something he really hated. Her slender fingers on the knot as he wonders how the hell she had grown up so fast. She is wearing a simple black dress. Rachel and Ben are downstairs, as are close friends waiting for them. He watches Charlie move over to Bass, helping him with the sleeve of his suit. Bass fingers are trembling. Her fingers lace with his as she stands against his tall arm.

Somehow she is a link between both men, caressing them both, giving the other what they can't give the other.

The people that are waiting for them. The people that are there when they walk the last part of the road with the people they have loved and now have to give back.

Booze and Ben waiting at the end of it all as Miles unties his tie a bit, with a frustrated outtake of breath.

'Well, that feels better.' His sarcasm filling the air, an armor on this day of endless jabs.

Aaron Pitmann, or he thinks that is his name, is talking with Rachel. Gail's uncle was a professor at his old University and the guy is here to pay his respects. He is also an old friend of Rachel and Ben.

He watches Bass with Emma, who talks to him for a moment. A hug, Bass eyes filled with tears. Then he watches hands being shaken as other people corner Bas,  as he and Ben share whiskey silently, even how much looks Rachel throws them for drinking so much. He always figured Ben needed to grow a pair with her around. 

Charlie walks towards them, her own glass in hand. She is a Matheson, a drink needs to be in her hand on this day after all. Ben puts his away.

'Come here, sweetheart,' Ben touches her gently, as he embraces his daughter.

Charlie smiles, taking in the scent of her dad. She looks at Miles. They are so much alike. They are both a part of her home.

'Have I told you how proud I am of looking out for everyone?' Ben talks closely to her ear, covered by blond locks he knows by heart. He has caressed them ever since she was four and lay in her bed, trusting eyes and waiting for a bed time story.

'That you are looking out for Bass?' His deep eyes look for hers. Ben admires her, so very much. In the years before Danny died, Rachel was so lost in her own world. In Danny. But his girl, he has always seen her, always seen her for the strength she is. No matter how she wants to take the world by storm, he will protect her. And on this day, he needs her close as he moves her against him today. She needs it too.

Miles looks at the ground as he sees something at the other side of the small restaurant. He looks at Ben and Charlie as he curses something.

Bass. He needs to get back to Bass.

He looks at the road again. It is dark now. People have gone home. And Bass was not there. Rachel, Charlie and Ben had looked through the house. The garden. The town square.

But as Miles rides, he knows all of a sudden where his friend, the man in his life since he can remember, is as he pushes his foot down deeper speeding up the car.

The sight of Bass sitting on the grass in the light of his car's headlight is almost driving him to the ground himself. He is crying with a wild freedom that he is misery waiting to go wrong. He can sense it.

'Been driving around to look at for you Bass.'

He sits down on the slight curve of the ground. The memories engraved around them close, too close as a tall willow tree is standing to their right.

The weight of the large square bottle of whiskey resting and playing in his hand. His elbow on his raised knee, his shoe in the dirt.

'One freaking moment and they all left me, Miles.'

The sobbing intensifies as Miles does not know what to do. How the hell to make this better.

'And here I am, being the one left.'

Bass pulls his hand through his hair.

'Isn't that one fucking joke.'

'You are not the only one, Bass.'

Bass looks at Miles.

'You have me.'

Bass finds a way to laugh through his tears at this sudden honest and close to sarcasm remark from Miles. Only Miles is not being sarcastic. And they both know it. Miles never was the one who told he loved him.

But here, now, Miles made a promise. A promise Bass will hold onto even when the feeling of that makes him feel vulnerable already.

'Give it to me Bass.' Miles does not look at him, as he sits next to him.

Bass slowly moves, the gun going from his hand to Miles hand.

Miles releases the gun, William's gun, onto the ground gently. Now his hand is free to move over to Bass, his hand going over his shoulder, as Bass puts his fingers over his eyes, touching tears, touching skin as Miles touches him.

 _Charlie stands_  before Miles' house as both men walk towards her. Bass, a little smaller as Miles, walking next to his step. And at the front door, her uncle stops. He pulls her in for a hug . She reaches out for Bass, as she pulls him close.

Three people, share a night, as Miles pulls them both close. Charlie leans into her uncle, as it is Bass chest that encircles her. Her hand now on his hip, the shirt has moved up a bit and it lands without truly aiming on soft warm skin. She does not let go.

The inside of the house of Miles's parents, that still is his property is cold and dark. Miles walks Bass to the spare room. Bass let's Miles untie his boots and shrug him out of his pants..

Miles puts a blanket over him. It is dark. The booze pulling him under. For one night, numbing the memories. Maybe it is nature's way of keeping you going. He is sure he hears both people leave the room.

But when Miles looks at Charlie, and she nods at him he is not going to be left behind.

He feels Charlie's hand on the strip of tender flesh right under his shirt, it is settling and comforting, before he falls asleep under the scent of blankets he knows all his life.

Charlie falls asleep, or maybe she doesn't. She knows he has. She slowly moves away from the bed as she walks downstairs, thirsty.

As she heads for a glass she sees him. Miles is in his clothing, his dark hair wildly around his forehead. His tall frame in the corner of a couch, he is laying with his back on the couch. Older looking making hurt on his face. The bottle not far. She walks over as she grabs a blanket from the couch, the material soft in her hands.

It is cold.

Charlie coves Miles with blanket in dark living room. Moving a strand of hair away from his forehead. She looks at him.

She is sipping the water. The cold water against her lips. As she watches her uncle, the scent of her father's touch still around her, as she wonders how much grieve the roof of this house can hold.

Grieve for family.

Grieve for a brother.

Grieve for all things that change.

She drinks. She walks over to the patio doors. The curtains are opens. The birds are starting their song. The light is about to change as a new day is here.

She walks back to Bass. She wants to be there when he wakes up as her weight presses into the small mattress even more and Bass turns her way and she lets him find the nook of her body with his.

'Charlie,' he mumbles his voice lowly from sleep and crying.

'I'm here.' She says softly as he lays against her chest and Bass can feel her chest as she holds him.

She looks out for the two men that have been looking out for her her whole life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have read your reviews, and I know this is a hard story. From this point in the story we will move forward, with more things to come! There will about 6 chapters written after this. Thank you for your feedback and thoughts! I love hearing from you, especially with such a difficult story. They mean so very much. Love from Love


	4. Two friends catching you

Chapter four

He was cold. And dirty.

He still is.

Somehow things like this, he does not care about anymore. He just slides. There is nothing more there that matter.

Miles' couch is his refuge.

Miles watches from the corner of his eyes, his hands aimlessly close to his body.

Charlie watches Bass. He smells. He has the dirt of the ground he sat on that night with the bottle and Miles, still on pants that have not left his thighs.

He barely eats. Then he does not eat at all.

He does drink.

She has opened the window to the room that he made his upstairs. The fresh air not able to cast out the grieve.

And when he is losing all grip around him, two friends are desperately trying to not let him loose himself.

Miles crouches down before Bass.

'Bass, you need to get out of these pants,' He looks at Charlie. And nods.

'We are going to get you cleaned up, okay?'

Bass looks at Miles, looks away. 'No,' he nods, 'I'm tired.'

'I know, but we've got you Bass.' Miles voice is low and unusually soft.

'Stay with him,' he says quietly to Charlie with just his eyes.

Miles walks upstairs to the bathroom and looks at the shower. In this state Bass won't even be able to stand on his feet long enough. He gets the warm water going into a bath. Then he walks downstairs again. Lifting an arm over Bass and Bass' arm over his shoulder, and his own strong hand under his brother's armpit he is carrying Bass with him as Bass' hand lands on his shoulder and Miles' covers his.

Charlie is on his other side.

He is being put on the rim of the tub. He could not care less. Miles starts on his boots. He helps him out of his shirt. His pants. His boxers. Socks. He looks at it, in a fuzzy this is not concerning me disconnected way.

'Come on buddy.'

Charlie sees her uncle, carrying Bass in some many ways through this and emotions rush over her. She loves them both so much. Miles, her uncle. Bass, his best friend and her friend through all of her life. He is almost ten years older, and been there in cards, Christmas day's and Thanksgivings Birthday, normal days. Any days. Her dad, older than Miles and in so many ways the definitely the adult when it comes to the group of three, Miles, Ben and Bass.

'You' re okay,' Charlie whispers softly standing next to Bass.

Bass looks up with haunted eyes that remind her of somebody completely lost.

He does not want to wash, he does not want to be here at all. Period. But it is Miles' stubbornness that gets him into the tub. Like he'd done before, on a mission across seas and humanity, when it had been them, taking care of the other, just like this.

Charlie walks over to Miles, crouches down besides and a little behind Bass. Grabs a cloth and some soap and starts, with calm and patience, to wash him. His shoulders, his chest. His wild curls when she lets her hand go over his scalp and temples. Her movements are easy.

'let's take care of this stubborn curls of yours,' she says easily. She wants to keep on talking to him.

And she refuses to not see him. She sees all of him. But is still here, next to him.

Dirt gets washed away. Tears. As she moves over his skin and a little scar that she knows is when he got into a bar fight with Miles.

She settles just behind him as Bass moves subtlety into her. The shift is small but warm skin moves into her wet shirt, warm water, warm steam as his cheek with beard touches her side. She sits with him. Just sits with him.

And as Miles looks at his best friend, silently and with dark eyes filled with compassion for Charlie and so much fucking hurt for his best friend, and Charlie taking care of him like she has never done anything else, or maybe she hasn't, he shoves the pants and Bass' other dirty laundry in a hamper in the corner and starts walking to the room where Bass is staying as he pushes to blankets filled with sleep from Bass' bed.

His bed is different. Charlie has helped him as somewhere in the back of his mind he is mad at himself how pathetic this feels. Shame. But not so much it can pierce through his grieve.

He ends up in boxers inside that bed, his hair still slightly wet. Soft hands and a softer towel go over his temples to drops of water.

Charlie moves from the bed and he watches her go. He can't watch her go. He knows Miles has already left. But not her. Not her too.

There it is. Screaming loneliness of something he cannot bear to see go.

He looks at her.

She looks at him.

Their eyes lock. He asks her not to leave. She doesn't.

Downstairs Miles has grabbed a beer as he sits his ass down on his couch. It is a long afternoon, as the light and the hours stretch out in their town. Rachel and Ben will stop by later and he hopes to god they have some food with them. With his skills to go to a supermarket and Charlie's ability to make a decent meal they are pretty much in for hell. Rachel probably will drill a meal together with the efficiency that is all her. Rachel.

His lips go to the rim of the bottle.

As he sits there, his thoughts go to his brother. The guy he met in their small school here in town. Nobody knew exactly what happened.

_But there had been some shoving around on the playground._

_'You're stupid.'_

_'You more stupider.'_

_'That's not a word, you moron.'_

_'Who thought you that word?'_

_'My dad,'_

_'My dad has a book about war and gross pictures of soldiers.'_

_'Cool.'_

_'Want to watch?'_

_Curiosity about a new curse word that was not yet theirs to say as they were not the tough badass guys they were now, had turned into a friendship and the dispute had been settled over a war book and the plans about playing soldiers near grass close to Bass' home._

He gets up from the couch, needing something stronger. A glass was there.

And now his brother, his friend was up there. As dads would never thunder about where the hell they had been. His little brother. Ben was his big brother, but Bass, Bass was his to take care off. And moron or not, he loved him.

He was worried about him. About what it could mean for his career in the Marines. He sighs. As the clock ticks on inside his living room, with memorabilia of his old man on the wall, his lips move and swallows down more liquid posion.

* * *

Charlie looks at him, he has looked at her a long time.

Bass looks at her, blue eyes mirroring his looks. The shift between them happening. He can feel her warm hands in his hair. It makes him feel a fucking bit less alone.

He needs more from that.

He moves his hips and legs towards her.

Charlie watches as he finally moved his arm. Not because they gave him a beer, a glass. Whiskey. But this time, because he was reaching. Reaching for her.

He touches her hair, like he had to tell himself it was there.

She watches him. The little lines close to his eyes, a tanned skin, the long neck that was so strong, like you could let your forehead glide into the strong waiting arms of his neck.

He watches her, watching him.

It makes him feel like he still exists.

The sun is setting, over the small square in town, over the small towns that had been here for ages. Over the gardens, over the play sites they know so well, over the small library and the story where they bought candy. It gives her a warm glow and it reaches him inside.

And then his cock twitches. It just happened, reaching for her, asking for her.

He looks at her, with an intensity that had nothing to do that Monroe ego. Or his warm Bass likeness. Or what there had been between them, before it all changed. It was a blazing asking curiosity.

Charlie looks at him. But it is also a plea, a delving into something she knew he would regret later.

She has felt his cock. It touches her, the strong movement impossible to ignore.

Bass Monroe never took advantage of anyone. He is kind and descent. And she did not want to do that to him.

She sees the whip of pain in his eyes when she gentle stopped him with her eyes.

He bows his forehead.

'Fuck,' he lets put.

He is about to pull away, feeling damn guilty for using her like this, no knowing what he is doing anymore and not knowing what the hell is happening. She stops him again, this time with her arm.

He is agitated, and he sits on the side of the bed, bowed down. He gets up.

She feels him, smells him. And then, to let him know this is not about pushing him away, and that whatever this was, could be real, in a space outside of this, she kisses him.

Somewhere on the tip of his lips, close to his cheek, halfway into his stubble, Charlie Matheson kisses Sebastian Monroe. It is a kiss filled with love and warmth and humanity and telling him it is all right he is here, it is all right she was here.

That this, this is not a pushing away. This is about waiting for that moment, to see if they could be that. She lets him know with one kiss, that she is here.

But today, it would have be this.

The kiss lasts. She lets him stand there, as long as he needs, as long as she needed. It was a clinch with their lips.

She slowly untangles from him, as she puts her arms around him before she walks downstairs and Bass crawls back into bed, with her touch, her kiss and finally able to get some sleep as he pulls the blanket over his shoulders.

* * *

_So, here we are. More comfort coming through this hard time...I wanted to thank you for your reviews, knowing you are reading my stories, and are with me with our love for these characters is so nice! Thanks for reading this sad story, next chapter will be an important changing point. Next chapter will be up soon! Love from Love_


	5. Born

Two woman. Two woman meet, as they shift towards another site of their story. Their stories change. As this story changes.

 

Her feet are walking, it is a Sunday morning and the town is sunny and with a crisp quality to warmer sunshine, but her mind fills with him.  They have been wrapped in each other’s life for so long now. The older she gets, the more stronger it seems to grow. He is older than her, but those 10 years seem to not have an impact on them. She snorts inside. Of course, they haven’t. He and Miles are still a couple of morons and she is sure a part of them will never outgrow the twelve year old part in them. 

Her mom was young when she had her, Bass’ mom was too.  And somehow they have gotten together in life like this. 

They were close. He was an extension of Miles, of somebody she really could build on and who has been there many times. But somehow on a early spring day in June things have changed. 

The memory comes back to her.

She is standing on a road, frown in her eyes, as she realises they have to go back, take a left and then move on. Of course, he disagreed.  She has a bad day. She walks. She goes out for a hike. Of course he wants to come. They have a dinner later where she is not planning on showing up, but of course he tells her he will come with her, to her family. And there is something there between them, but that moment she gets in his face and tells him he is delusional, as Bass stand before her tall, with a look in his eyes that has been new to her until that point, it is a fire that burns brighter. 

They have been playing with that new blue meeting blue. Charlie can sense it when another woman is around, like that time in that casino when he met an old flame. She can pretend she does not remember her name, but she does. Duncan Page. 

 She can sense it when he becomes a bit crude or a whining twelve year old around her when she mentions a guy from her city. 

And now, she is here. Back in a town she knows from memories as the tears of a man she is growing to love more, have her bundled in tears too. 

Charlie feels the pressure of the pavement under her, as the trees around the square keep her company. She grabs the cookbooks and some loose recipes under her hands and walks on. 

She is greeted by a lot of people on the road. Her father is loved here, and she is loved too, as people, friendly and open, always had her carried in the town heart as well. 

‘Miss Cohen,’   she nods back to the older lady, one of the owners of the candy store Bass and Miles used to rob when they were about five years old. 

‘Sweetie,’   a warm smile comes from the shop owner, ‘how are you doing?’ 

The woman is sweet, asking about her. 

‘Just returning these.’  She smiles, the pages of ingredients in her hands. 

‘Ah yes, I think she is home.’    Her eyes go warmer now.  ‘So, tell me, you are taking care of those boys.’ 

‘I am.’    Charlie smiles back. 

‘Good, such a tragedy. They need a little love from a loving honest woman like you, honey.’ 

Charlie  grins with her, but is touched by her honesty. Miss Cohen think for a second as a little mischief comes to her eyes. 

‘And those two thought I never knew they were stealing from me. Naughty boys.’  She shakes her head. 

‘You knew?’  Charlie asks, a little surprised. 

‘Oh yes, I knew. But they are a good couple of boys, and they felt so tough when they did it. Sometimes boys just need to feel like bad boys you know. ‘      Miss Cohen laughs freely and winks t her.

‘When they offered to do some chores for me that summer, I let them work extra hard as a bit of payback.’ 

Charlie and Miss Cohen laugh now together. 

‘Well, good morning then Miss Cohen.’ 

‘Good morning, kiddo,’    Miss Cohen winks, knowing how much she still does not like that.  But her little joke is harmless and Charlie is feeling the smile in her words. 

Miss Cohen walks past her, as Charlie walks to the house a little further ahead. It is green, with warm wood. It is small but warm. 

She hears the shrieking of the wood of the steps as she is standing in front of the front door and knocks. 

‘Charlie, hey.’ 

‘Hi, ’  she smiles briefly, not the same smile she gave Miss Cohen just a while back, ‘My mom send me over to return these?’  

She hands back some recipe books her mom has used to make some things for the guests a couple of days ago. 

‘You did not have to come all the way over here Charlie.’ 

There is a hesitation in her voice. 

‘Nah, it is my pleasure,’  she says, looking at the older woman before her. ‘It is all right, I don’t mind Emma.’

Both woman look at each other. Emma, a bit taller, a bit older, long dark amber hair, with eyes that look up and for a long time at Charlie. Charlie, a little smaller, a couple of years younger, long blonde locks with blue eyes that look at her. 

‘Can I get you some coffee?’ She asks. 

Charlie picks up on uncomfortableness in her body as Emma’s little vest falls over her shirt. 

‘No, thank you.'  

‘The service was really beautiful.’   The two woman stand across from each other in the kitchen.

 ‘Yeah it was.’  

‘We haven’t seen Bass that much here since he went away.’  

Charlie feels the sting of the familiarity Emma is talking about Bass. It is like she almost wants to point out the common history they have. Emma is gorgeous. Charlie looks at her for a second. 

‘Bass,’   the name from her lips,  ‘ how is he?’  

‘He is in a real bad place.’ 

Emma moves closer to the counter. 

‘Well, send him...' 

Charlie looks to her right.

 And she sees a young boy on the kitchen threshold with eyes that are so very familiar it makes her come to a full stop.

 


	6. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your amazing reviews, this story is beautifully sad to write, but the story turns towards the second part.  
> Thank you so much!

Charlie finds him on the steps of the stairs in the hallway. She sees him huddled up, his eyes downcast, his whole normally so tall and proud body compact, his fore arms on his legs. Knowing how much she ripped open. But she stands for the truth, and she will never have a part in denying Bass the truth.

_Charlie stands in the kitchen, Emma's kitchen, as dark curls walk into the kitchen. For one second she hopes she is wrong. That this is a situation with a totally logic explanation. That this is some movie moment with a punch line that won't end history the way it was._

_It isn't. Because dark curls and deep eyes walk in with shoulders in a miniature version that she has seen before._

' _Mommy?' He asks. He looks up at Charlie with big eyes. He feels something is not right._

_She won't put this little boy through anything he won't have to go through. She is not made out of that. This little boy is innocent and with a childish sweetness around him._

_Emma gets to his level. And it is the skittish look in Emma's eyes that puts the truth, here in this kitchen, with both feet on the ground._

' _I'll be right back Connor, okay buddy?'_

_Connor nods, when he tilts his head and turns his little body towards Emma, a hand close to his nose to cover up, when there is a little flannel cuddle toy in the shape of a dog in hands, dangling in front of him._

_Connor. She is part of this now. She has a hard time forming sentences but she tries to reassure the little boy anyhow. She does not want things to end up on the shoulders of this little boy, Connor, that don't have to be there. SO much is yet to come for him if she is right. But she knows she probably already is. Sometimes you know. Sometimes your heart tells you, no matter if you don't want to hear it._

_Charlie smiles to Connor. 'Hey little guy. I just stopped by to give your mom some books back. I am going home now okay, Connor?'_

_Big eyes nod at her when he moves a little behind Emma. He doesn't smile but his eyes are on her, and he seems to calm down by the look in his eyes as Charlie nods a warm gesture at him._

_She looks up at Emma. She sees the turmoil in her eyes. She feels the blow for Bass. Slowly._

_She says goodbye to the boy who's smile at her is unsure, which makes Emma even more uneasy._

_Charlie feels her chin lock her face in a contained anger when she turns around. Her face is filled with hurt and her heart is pounding. Miles. She needs to get to Miles. Or no, her dad. Her dad._

_She walks down the steps and is out of the house. The air around her feels different, the Sunday morning sun flat. The brisk air of the land outside the town in her face but the colours are off, like a tv movie that changes its colours when going to a different scene. She feels a million things at the same time and her heart is pounding._

' _Charlie wait,' Emma follows her with an almost contained cry of despair in her voice._

_She turns._

' _Please don't...' Emma pleas._

' _Please don't...,' she waits, then she continues, she is normally a very put together person, strong, strength, bright, but when you touch the people she cared for, a lioness comes out, 'What Emma? Don't tell... Bass?' Charlie's face is seething. Anger is spiking. She tries to keep her voice down. She knows Connor has already felt enough, and she remembers when she was little, the things her mom and dad think she has not felt. She will never ever put someone through that, it is just in her DNA now._

' _Please don't tell Bass...what?'_

_She is standing there, trembling as she watches it unveil in Emma's eyes. They both know what Bass needs to know. They both know who it is, that stands in her kitchen._

_Life._

_A part of his life._

' _Let's get one things straight,' Charlie feels the line on her face go tense, like her skin has seen too many hours at the beach and she feels the tension in her face, as her voice goes to that flat but radiating pissed of tone that makes her strong and impressive and the one that puts her there in her strength. 'Don't ever, EVER, ask me to lie to Bass. I will never ever do that, to him.'_

_A son._

' _So, you will tell him?' Emma sounds defeated._

' _We have to find a way.' Charlie nods. They do, but she won't run, make a lot of drama, to make this situation even worse. This is not about her. This is about Bass. And that little boy that is... Oh god. This is about real lives, lives. She won't let her anger take control. Her stubbornness prevents her from doing so. She won't use her own anger to hurt somebody else when it should be about somebody else completely. She has seen one person do that at times in her life, and she won't be that person._

_Emma nods, Charlie nods. Both woman face off, stand there, woman to woman as Charlie manages to nod at Emma and then Charlie turns again. As she walks away. Dad, Miles._

_He is a father._

_He has a son._

_And bass. Oh god. Bass._

And now she is here. At the end of a Sunday that started with the sun and is now filled with an empty hallway and Bass in it, with grieve and crushed friendship and love and knowing things are not what they used to be. Sure she could not let a son and father spending time without the other in their lives. She will stay around for this. How could she allow that, how could she walk away from fighting to give Bass a life with his kid. But she is unsure. Unsure what he will say, what he will do. His eyes are dark, his face in one sharp line, his eyes on his hands as he holds his jacket in his hands.

Grieve is replaced by anger.

He does not look up. But she knows he has acknowledged her. So she keeps on walking.

Emma just left. She can sense her still here. Her perfume. And the idea of her, of a woman that she knows has been there for him, with him, close, alone with him, shifts something inside of her.

Bass feels her. He does. He has nu fucking clue how long he has been sitting here. And then he remembers  _earlier. As his thoughts go over and over to whatever the fuck happened to him._

'Emma.' He looks at her. His voice is low and not how he ever talked to her. He is pissed, he is disappointment, he is in shock. But the still manages to sound civilized. Because they have a kid, and he needs, craves, wants to see his kid. Ben and Miles were there. Telling him. As his mind was on repeat. You have to be fucking kidding me. You have to be... But they weren't. He put his hand through his hair, over his scruff. Emma. The one girl. She betrayed him. He hates feeling it, but she did.

She has opened the door to her house, the small blouse under the knitted vest, jeans. Her dark long hair falling over her shoulder. And now, hours after the words from Ben and Miles, he is here. They could not have stopped him. A whole fucking continent would not have stopped him. One look and everything is different. First look. First look at the woman he loved. First look at the woman as memories of what was come back. And he feels he can never thrust her again. It is something that breaks of the glow of his childhood, of this town that was and is his home.

'Bass,' She looks up at him, her face uneasy, her eyes at him, her shoulders, eyes, hair, all different.  _Hell,_  everything is different.

'He is not here,' Emma says softly.

John, Emma's dad walks in.

'I think you have to go son.'

Bass looks from him to Emma. Standing in front of a door to a house he is not even allowed to walk into.

'How could you do this, knowing how I would feel for this child?'

'Son, we made a decision.'

'The hell you did.' Bass fingers point at him, his voice is booming through the air as his blue eyes are dangerously turning darker.

Emma has never seen him like this. John has neither.

'If you think I would walk away from my child, you are fucking wrong. He is my son and I won't leave him.'

Tears are pushed away as rage takes over. He walks into the house, and looks around. Paranoia and disbelieve about what Emma told him is taking over. The kid is here, and if he is here, he has to see him.

Emma tries to intervene but Pete guides Bass out of the door. Bass almost shoves a fist in his face. But then he feels like air is running out of him.

He looks at Emma. And his whole face changes into defeat. Tears are in the back of his throat.

'Emma, come on. This is me. You can't do this.'

His eyes are pleading. That kid is his family.

'At least tell me his name.'

He presses his lips together as he tilts his head a little more down as thick tears fill his eyes now.

'Connor. His name is Connor.'

And then he stands at the other side of the door. The door clicks into the lock. Bass looks with disbelieve and raw hurt in his eyes at the house. He moves backwards as he puts his hand over his face, his scruff and takes tears with him. he looks at the house again, his hand on the back of his head in disbelieve. And then he walks away. He will be back. He won't let his son go without a fight. But is for the decency for his own mom, and his father's heritage of respect and the sweetness and example he set for his sisters, that he won't let this situation explode.

For now.

When he walks past a wooden fence, he jams his fist into it as his face is dark with seething rage and the completely feeling of pushed out by anyone.

It is dark. And cold. And lonely.

It feels like he has no one left.

He has walked back to his home. Walked inside. Looked at the dark floor in front of him and sat down on the fourth step of the stairs. The one that is his, the one he used to sit on to get into his boots from as long as he can remember, since he was a little boy that went to play pirates with Miles. Jacket in hand as his hands lay on the fabric.

The click of the door opening and closing, as his mind is still with the whole fucking scene at Emma's.

Charlie.

When she stands in front of Bass, he already stands on his feet. He has sat down here for hours, until she walks in. Stands before her, looks at her with intent.

'I..' Charlie starts, as her face is torn in sadness and the shift she feels in him. In grieve turning into dark anger. It is scary to her.

It is not the man she knows.

'Thank you,' His tone a low gruff tone. They stand boot to boot as his taller frame towers above her.

Charlie just nods.

'I have to go.'

'Bass, let me g..'

'No,' his wordcolour gets even lower, 'You stay out of it.'

Bass cringes under his own voice. Fuck. Push her out you fucking moron, way to go. Another one on the list of endless fuck upped moment of this week. But he can't.

Charlie's hope drops. He is pissed. His face looks so different and she wants to read out so much, as his arm is reaching for the door.

When Bass is feeling the fresh air and Charlie on the other side and her not by his grieve anymore, his eyes look at the ground again, his face drops. He can't burn the salty tears anymore. He shakes his head.

'Dammit.' He lets out a harsh breath. And then he walks the path he has chosen many times before. He does not stop before he reaches his house, the small house at the end of school ground where the street turns into another corner, before it runs into the fields at the edge of town.

He needs to find Miles.

He finds him. At his old home. Fuck, once life had been easy. It had not been about fucking messed up tears and kids hidden from him.

He crashed the door open, finds Miles with a bottle in his hand that is about to go towards a glass. He does not even notice the other man in the room with him.

'You knew.' Bass puts his finger into Miles' chest. It is not a question. The paranoia comes back at full blow.

'No, I didn't.' Miles says firmly.

'You did.' Bass shoves him hard in his chest with two hands. He has to, because right now, Bass needs to vent, needs to punch, needs to roar with grieve und dishonesty and unfairness that twirl into paranoia and anger.

'Bass, he didn't.' It is Ben, his warm voice reaching him.

Bass is still filled with rage.

'Sebastian, look at me.' Ben uses his full name to get his attention, 'Miles did not know.' His voice is softer.

Bass breaks. He shoves Miles again. And then tears come. 'I had a child,' he spits out the words, with her, some of his spit flying through the air, 'I don't know what the hell I did wrong for her to hide her, I would have...I would never,' Miles feeling every load of those words, with her, with Emma, with the girl Bass noticed from when they were little and where he always felt for, for her, his face pissed and so incredibly torn that he looks years older. 'All this time, I had a child Miles, and I would never hurt him...I was not there ' his voice peeks, rough, low, high.

Miles puts his arms around Bass, shoving them around them like they delivered punches, in a man way that is hard and loved, clinging onto him and not let him go. Bass sobs into Miles' neck. They crash to the floor as anger and paranoia is moved by grieve and harsh sobbing.

Later, they sit. They drink. As Bass stares towards the wall.

Ben hands him another drink as he sits next to his brother and the man he sees as family on a chair.

'I have to go and find Charlie,' Ben puts the glass on the table as he gets up.

'I'll stay here Ben. Take care of our girl.' Miles nods.

Bass cannot talk, but taking care of Charlie sounds good. His girl, his friend, his...she needs to be taken care of. Because he sure as hell can't and fucked that one up. He huffs bitterly with the drink in hand, as he looks at and over the rim of the glass.

He nods at Ben with hollow blue tears glazed eyes.

The door shuts behind Ben and then it is him, Miles. On a couch.

At the end of the day Bass fulfilment about his kid pushes away the anger for the audacity of one decision. He has missed so much. So incredibly much, that he does not know how to put that into thoughts for now.

But then he looks and feels Connor's name and the promise of him again in his mind, and he realises how much he can mean for him. How much he wants to see him. As he asks himself how much he will see in that boy. How much lays ahead. It fulfils him. But tears are there. Tears for these emotions as he sits on a chair in the kitchen, a glass of whiskey on the table. Alone. His arms on his knees. Tears for the woman that is not there.

And the woman he wants to be here. Because somehow she can always pierce through his misery, make him step up and take care of her, respect her, be in awe of her strength and smart mouth and beauty.

He can hear her steps on the wood as the thoughts materialize into her. And he can't look at her. Because she cannot be here. Not after everything he has done. He can't. Slowly he raises his eyes. And then she walks towards him into the middle of the room, with dark wood on the floor and dark walls from the nightfall as the water in the small reservoir outside moves quietly in the Indiana night. Her nose is a little red on the top from the cold in the air outside. Her eyes glassy with tears as she nods at him ever so slowly.

He looks at her, knows that here, is understanding and a second chance. He should not get that one, but she gives it anyway.

'I'm sorry,' His voice is rough and broken.

When her sweet scent, fresh, not too much, is reaching him he encircles her with two large hands.

'There is nothing to forgive.'

And as she stands there between his thighs, his head finds the swelling of breasts, the sweet warmth of her stomach as tears move into her tank.

The glass of whiskey close to them on the table.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note I love this weird moving of the time line, because I can write this moment. I always wondered how that conversation between Emma and Bass would go, when the first shock was wearing out, when he found out about his son. About her decision, and how he would feel. How people like Ben would help him, and fit in the story. There were two scenes here in the present as a flashback: the moment Bass went back for a second time to Emma and the moment where Charlie talks to Emma as she realises who the little boy could be. Is. And it is a little link to Vegas, where she did not walk away from Bass, where she saves his life but also is the key to giving him Connor back to spend time with. She is also the one with bringing back Bass to Miles, who gave the impulse and to Bass to find his kid. I think that is beautiful and I wanted to bring that back here. I also love writing Ben in the mix.  
> There are two more scenes waiting: the one where she will have to tell Miles and Ben. And the one where Bass will know about life in between the grieve there, his part of him and the confrontation with Emma. Dammit, that's three. So, these scenes will unravel in the chapters to come as this story was about loss but there is life too.  
> Thanks for reading. Love to hear your thoughts! Love from Love


	7. Making life and love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In last chapter, Charlie found out that Emma has a son, a kid. Connor. It has been a long day since then, and in last chapter we left Charlie, embracing Bass in a dark kitchen, standing between his thighs, his head against her warm stomach.

Ben Matheson sat on the couch of the small home he an Rachel bought. Not that Rachel was here. She had gotten on a plane, irritated at the amount of time Miles was here, he wanted to spend with Bass. She was hardly here. They had bought it to give Danny fresh air and a change to connect with people they had moved away from at the promise of city life and ambitions. Those ambitions had led them far, projects about energy and organizing well fare, but also far from their loved ones. He was drinking. Remembering him, not thinking much of Rachel as he found himself do less and less so. Their marriage was crap. Almost done. They were holding on, because frankly, he could not put Charlie through much more.

Charlie, his eldest daughter. She had run into the house this morning. Asking for him, asking for Miles.

'Dad!' she had yelled, a strong voice with urgency.

She had looked shaken through when she had walked in.

'Charlie,' his voice a slow timbre, striding towards her.

She had stood before him.

He tilted his head towards her. 'Take a deep breath honey.'

'I...I think Emma is hiding something from Bass.'

'What are you talking about sweetheart?' He looked with his dark eyes towards his girl.

He had felt a timbre in the air roll towards them, a shift in air pressure around them.

'I think there is a kid.'

He had looked at her, tried to comfort her, hug her, but she would not allow. She was looking around for Miles, and he could see the little radars in her head tune into how this could be true and how they could Bass the truth.

There was a kid.

Ben and Miles had talked to Emma. They had to be sure.

Miles was with Emma. Charlie was with Bass. As he sat on the couch, needing a moment.

His little brother, big funny, strong, kind-hearted Sebastian, he had looked at him, when they brought him the news, when they had to tell his little brother the truth.

* * *

The little tip of her nose cold from the air outside, or maybe from the tears she has cried. The idea of Charlie crying eats at him, he can and could never see her cry. Not her. His arms wants to touch her. Hold her.

'I am so sorry Charlie.'

The scent that is Charlie encircles him, as he encircles her with his large strong arms.

'There is nothing to forgive.'

Charlie feels him, the shocks of his hurt and feeling of what he has gained as well. Connor, as she thinks about what he has lost, about the magnitude of love that is there waiting for him. To give. To receive.

And then she feels the grieve too, as his shocking turns into her own shocks. She tries to stop them. She really does. The first tears start to fall too within his embrace as the screeching of the chair legs go over the wood and he is one force as stands up and holds on to her.

Lifting her in his arms as he stands before her. Holding her. Holding him. In a dark kitchen.

'I am a father.' He mumbles in her hair. He tries the word.

He turns her so he can see her, and pushes some hair out of her face that has gotten caught in tears on her cheeks. Her eyelashes wet, her eyes so intense on him.

She meets him.

'Yeah, you are.' Her words are sure and with the fact that he can do this, and sweet and soft and with so much trust that he can do this, fulfil this task before him that he can only look at her.

'I'm so sorry, Charlie, after everything you did for me, you...' he presses his lips together in the gesture she knows belongs to him, his way to feel.

'I told you there is nothing to forgive.' Charlie says again, her face serious. Eyes she saves only for him. The look that makes him feel warm, like he has a place, always, to walk with her, by her side, with trust and someone willing to look at him.

'I had no right to talk to you like that, Charlie. I know I can never make it up but I have to try.'

'Shhh, don't.' Charlie says to him with firing calm eyes. Her hands now rubbing slowly over his side, liking the strength that lies in his muscles. She has always done so. The natural tone in his body. The way he can match her. Still be him, let her still be her, but compliment her with his strength to get out more of her softness.

Charlie understands. She has walked and walked after Danny died. Angry, lashing out. Hurting with words she wished she could take back.

She choose the people that she cared for most, because she felt safe with them.

'Stay with me,'

She hears the almost embarrassed tone in his voice, but also the tone that suggest that there is where she should be.

She answers with her eyes.

They make a fire in the garden, after he had slid into that jacket, black and strong leather, sit around it as he passes her another log of wood. As the night grows darker, they share the fire, sitting together, looking into the fire.

Miles sees the contours of his niece and best friend. It has been a long day. With Pete, with Emma. Connor not there, because that little kid does not need to take all this shit they had created. He has talked. And talked. Knowing he would not leave until he had gotten through. Because hell, his best friend, his brother, would not go without his kid any day longer. He knows now that it has been a decision with anger from parents who wanted another future for their kid, that turned into the truth, the lie living on. They would fix this shit. And not by running away, not with hiding the kid.

He sees her again. He sees Bass again. Charlie when she walked in with a devastated face that almost made him stop in his tracks, right before she would tell him and he would listen endlessly. Bass' face when they told him. Him and Ben. Charlie.

When Miles walks towards them, he sees his niece asleep against Bass' leather clad arm.

He will join them, pull an all nighter. It a small hand on Bass' shoulder before he sits down next to him.

But first, he walks over as he grabs a blanket from a chair for Charlie.

Two weeks move on. Two weeks were they realise they need to take this slow. For Connor. That kid has nothing to do with this endless mess, and how much Bass wants to see him, he knows the kid needs a time to adjust.

Grieves, the ropes entangled, untangle, slowly. He starts to get out of his bed. Eat. He is a dad now. It is a force, a magnitude that propels him forwards. The people in town are there. Charlie is. Oh Charlie. Always her..Ben, always here. Miles. Always there

Miss Cohen on the street, a wink she gave him since they were two. A warm smile with courage to move on for another minute.

And now, he sits here as tomorrow a part of his family comes back.

It is a late night, and he sits on the porch with Charlie. Not on the chairs, but on the wooden steps with a couple of blankets and pillows she dragged with her. She has always these nice ideas, although he would never see her care about things like too much make up or whine like other girls are so good at. Where it is him and Miles and Ben that always don't give a shit, as they just crash on the ground or steps or whatever.

It is late. Miles is at home, so is Ben. The garden covers them, as the flowers and shrubs, his mother has taken care of, are standing in the dark. The sounds of a small town lingering in the air. Beer in hands, some bullshit stories they exchange.

He closes his eyes. Remembering the moment with Miles, where he had been like hell, felt like hell, and she had been there. The embarrassing moment coming back when his body had responded to hers upstairs in Miles' spare room. And the thing was, she had stopped him, but with his ego intact. Charlie knew how to take care, instead of smothering too much.

'Hey, everything okay?'

'Never better.' He sais, as he places the beer bottle and takes another gulp.

He looks away and then at her face.

Charlie heard his tone. Bullshit, she knows it is.

'All right...out with it...'

He looks to his hands, beer in hand, beer against his lips, beer seeping in his throat.

'It's just...you have been so amazing Charlie.'

He does not know what to say.

Instead. Charlie answers him with the great strong no bullshit Charlie she is.

Her eyes are jewels of blue when he meets them.

'You would do the same for me. You have done the same for me.'

Remembering some moments where she had been sobbing into the night as Jason had broken up with her, and she had called him. Remembering some night at a bar, where they had gotten into a stupid fight, and she left to get some more beers and men had started to harass her, and he had come back for her, to get her out. Understanding in silence how it had shaken her up, sitting there next to her at his fireplace. Her sleeping, him watching over. That day in an empty school hall, where she had to do a presentation and he had been irritated and left early, but then, at the moment nerves were turning into unbearable moments, he had come back. She had told him so, and he had looked at her. Oh he did.

'So many times.'

They lock eyes. The night stands still, as the late hours between late and early are there.

He moves his hand towards her jaw.

They look. They feel they wait.

And then Charlie kisses him as Bass kisses Charlie.

The beers in hand, the plaid around them on the porch. The air silent, the fire still going.

It a slow explorative kiss, something that feels natural and exciting .

Charlie feels a surge of admiration for him, as his hand is still in her hair, he does not stop kissing her but at the same time, he puts his beer down as he gets her beer. He turns into the lover he know is, next to the friend and family he is already. He is skilled, and it is natural and oh so good. It is also the right moment, where he is more of Bass again, moved out of that first shattering moments of grieve and his strength matches her, day by day now.

He tastes like leather, and his slow scent, his mouth a taste she has always wanted to know. He is everywhere.

From that day they argued about directions, on that day she took a hike and he went with her, it was there. That heated angry surge in her belly. Leaves above them. A silent path. The connection. Knowing that one day they would get here.

His hands move over and under her shirt. His fingertips digging into her soft flesh. She is mindblowing, Bass wants more. She asks for more. She feels the side of his pants, the fabric of his jeans roughly against his hand. He kisses her as he holds her and caresses her all at one.

Pillows and plaids are there to meet them in that shielded moment.

When he slides into her, and he needs to be still for a second and look at her, beautiful Charlie, his arms around her and next to her arms with strong muscles, and she looks at him and caresses the skin under his collarbones and above his chest, it is a gasp of familiar and new and stimulating at the same time, as his body is pressing on her, her legs are everywhere and they start the play of trusting and moving as he covers her completely, being carefully it's not too much, when passion builds and it a slow lovemaking between people that were always heading to this porch. Charlie wants to disappear into the hollow of his arm, as she encircles around him and she lets Bass take them, as she takes him, where they want to go.

In last chapter, Charlie found out that Emma has a son, a kid. Connor. It has been a long day since then, and in last chapter we left Charlie, embracing Bass in a dark kitchen, standing between his thighs, his head against her warm stomach.

Chapter 7

Ben Matheson sat on the couch of the small home he an Rachel bought. Not that Rachel was here. She had gotten on a plane, irritated at the amount of time Miles was here, he wanted to spend with Bass. She was hardly here. They had bought it to give Danny fresh air and a change to connect with people they had moved away from at the promise of city life and ambitions. Those ambitions had led them far, projects about energy and organizing well fare, but also far from their loved ones. He was drinking. Remembering him, not thinking much of Rachel as he found himself do less and less so. Their marriage was crap. Almost done. They were holding on, because frankly, he could not put Charlie through much more.

Charlie, his eldest daughter. She had run into the house this morning. Asking for him, asking for Miles.

'Dad!' she had yelled, a strong voice with urgency.

She had looked shaken through when she had walked in.

'Charlie,' his voice a slow timbre, striding towards her.

She had stood before him.

He tilted his head towards her. 'Take a deep breath honey.'

'I...I think Emma is hiding something from Bass.'

'What are you talking about sweetheart?' He looked with his dark eyes towards his girl.

He had felt a timbre in the air roll towards them, a shift in air pressure around them.

'I think there is a kid.'

He had looked at her, tried to comfort her, hug her, but she would not allow. She was looking around for Miles, and he could see the little radars in her head tune into how this could be true and how they could Bass the truth.

There was a kid.

Ben and Miles had talked to Emma. They had to be sure.

Miles was with Emma. Charlie was with Bass. As he sat on the couch, needing a moment.

His little brother, big funny, strong, kind-hearted Sebastian, he had looked at him, when they brought him the news, when they had to tell his little brother the truth.

* * *

The little tip of her nose cold from the air outside, or maybe from the tears she has cried. The idea of Charlie crying eats at him, he can and could never see her cry. Not her. His arms wants to touch her. Hold her.

'I am so sorry Charlie.'

The scent that is Charlie encircles him, as he encircles her with his large strong arms.

'There is nothing to forgive.'

Charlie feels him, the shocks of his hurt and feeling of what he has gained as well. Connor, as she thinks about what he has lost, about the magnitude of love that is there waiting for him. To give. To receive.

And then she feels the grieve too, as his shocking turns into her own shocks. She tries to stop them. She really does. The first tears start to fall too within his embrace as the screeching of the chair legs go over the wood and he is one force as stands up and holds on to her.

Lifting her in his arms as he stands before her. Holding her. Holding him. In a dark kitchen.

'I am a father.' He mumbles in her hair. He tries the word.

He turns her so he can see her, and pushes some hair out of her face that has gotten caught in tears on her cheeks. Her eyelashes wet, her eyes so intense on him.

She meets him.

'Yeah, you are.' Her words are sure and with the fact that he can do this, and sweet and soft and with so much trust that he can do this, fulfil this task before him that he can only look at her.

'I'm so sorry, Charlie, after everything you did for me, you...' he presses his lips together in the gesture she knows belongs to him, his way to feel.

'I told you there is nothing to forgive.' Charlie says again, her face serious. Eyes she saves only for him. The look that makes him feel warm, like he has a place, always, to walk with her, by her side, with trust and someone willing to look at him.

'I had no right to talk to you like that, Charlie. I know I can never make it up but I have to try.'

'Shhh, don't.' Charlie says to him with firing calm eyes. Her hands now rubbing slowly over his side, liking the strength that lies in his muscles. She has always done so. The natural tone in his body. The way he can match her. Still be him, let her still be her, but compliment her with his strength to get out more of her softness.

Charlie understands. She has walked and walked after Danny died. Angry, lashing out. Hurting with words she wished she could take back.

She choose the people that she cared for most, because she felt safe with them.

'Stay with me,'

She hears the almost embarrassed tone in his voice, but also the tone that suggest that there is where she should be.

She answers with her eyes.

They make a fire in the garden, after he had slid into that jacket, black and strong leather, sit around it as he passes her another log of wood. As the night grows darker, they share the fire, sitting together, looking into the fire.

Miles sees the contours of his niece and best friend. It has been a long day. With Pete, with Emma. Connor not there, because that little kid does not need to take all this shit they had created. He has talked. And talked. Knowing he would not leave until he had gotten through. Because hell, his best friend, his brother, would not go without his kid any day longer. He knows now that it has been a decision with anger from parents who wanted another future for their kid, that turned into the truth, the lie living on. They would fix this shit. And not by running away, not with hiding the kid.

He sees her again. He sees Bass again. Charlie when she walked in with a devastated face that almost made him stop in his tracks, right before she would tell him and he would listen endlessly. Bass' face when they told him. Him and Ben. Charlie.

When Miles walks towards them, he sees his niece asleep against Bass' leather clad arm.

He will join them, pull an all nighter. It a small hand on Bass' shoulder before he sits down next to him.

But first, he walks over as he grabs a blanket from a chair for Charlie.

Two weeks move on. Two weeks were they realise they need to take this slow. For Connor. That kid has nothing to do with this endless mess, and how much Bass wants to see him, he knows the kid needs a time to adjust.

Grieves, the ropes entangled, untangle, slowly. He starts to get out of his bed. Eat. He is a dad now. It is a force, a magnitude that propels him forwards. The people in town are there. Charlie is. Oh Charlie. Always her..Ben, always here. Miles. Always there

Miss Cohen on the street, a wink she gave him since they were two. A warm smile with courage to move on for another minute.

And now, he sits here as tomorrow a part of his family comes back.

It is a late night, and he sits on the porch with Charlie. Not on the chairs, but on the wooden steps with a couple of blankets and pillows she dragged with her. She has always these nice ideas, although he would never see her care about things like too much make up or whine like other girls are so good at. Where it is him and Miles and Ben that always don't give a shit, as they just crash on the ground or steps or whatever.

It is late. Miles is at home, so is Ben. The garden covers them, as the flowers and shrubs, his mother has taken care of, are standing in the dark. The sounds of a small town lingering in the air. Beer in hands, some bullshit stories they exchange.

He closes his eyes. Remembering the moment with Miles, where he had been like hell, felt like hell, and she had been there. The embarrassing moment coming back when his body had responded to hers upstairs in Miles' spare room. And the thing was, she had stopped him, but with his ego intact. Charlie knew how to take care, instead of smothering too much.

'Hey, everything okay?'

'Never better.' He sais, as he places the beer bottle and takes another gulp.

He looks away and then at her face.

Charlie heard his tone. Bullshit, she knows it is.

'All right...out with it...'

He looks to his hands, beer in hand, beer against his lips, beer seeping in his throat.

'It's just...you have been so amazing Charlie.'

He does not know what to say.

Instead. Charlie answers him with the great strong no bullshit Charlie she is.

Her eyes are jewels of blue when he meets them.

'You would do the same for me. You have done the same for me.'

Remembering some moments where she had been sobbing into the night as Jason had broken up with her, and she had called him. Remembering some night at a bar, where they had gotten into a stupid fight, and she left to get some more beers and men had started to harass her, and he had come back for her, to get her out. Understanding in silence how it had shaken her up, sitting there next to her at his fireplace. Her sleeping, him watching over. That day in an empty school hall, where she had to do a presentation and he had been irritated and left early, but then, at the moment nerves were turning into unbearable moments, he had come back. She had told him so, and he had looked at her. Oh he did.

'So many times.'

They lock eyes. The night stands still, as the late hours between late and early are there.

He moves his hand towards her jaw.

They look. They feel they wait.

And then Charlie kisses him as Bass kisses Charlie.

The beers in hand, the plaid around them on the porch. The air silent, the fire still going.

It a slow explorative kiss, something that feels natural and exciting .

Charlie feels a surge of admiration for him, as his hand is still in her hair, he does not stop kissing her but at the same time, he puts his beer down as he gets her beer. He turns into the lover he know is, next to the friend and family he is already. He is skilled, and it is natural and oh so good. It is also the right moment, where he is more of Bass again, moved out of that first shattering moments of grieve and his strength matches her, day by day now.

He tastes like leather, and his slow scent, his mouth a taste she has always wanted to know. He is everywhere.

From that day they argued about directions, on that day she took a hike and he went with her, it was there. That heated angry surge in her belly. Leaves above them. A silent path. The connection. Knowing that one day they would get here.

His hands move over and under her shirt. His fingertips digging into her soft flesh. She is mindblowing, Bass wants more. She asks for more. She feels the side of his pants, the fabric of his jeans roughly against his hand. He kisses her as he holds her and caresses her all at one.

Pillows and plaids are there to meet them in that shielded moment.

When he slides into her, and he needs to be still for a second and look at her, beautiful Charlie, his arms around her and next to her arms with strong muscles, and she looks at him and caresses the skin under his collarbones and above his chest, it is a gasp of familiar and new and stimulating at the same time, as his body is pressing on her, her legs are everywhere and they start the play of trusting and moving as he covers her completely, being carefully it's not too much, when passion builds and it a slow lovemaking between people that were always heading to this porch. Charlie wants to disappear into the hollow of his arm, as she encircles around him and she lets Bass take them, as she takes him, where they want to go.

One star up in the sky high above them.


	8. A part of you melting into me

In last chapter, Bass went through a bad discovery and Bass and Charlie found each other on a porch. Together. Making life and love, on a dark summer night with th airs of small town live and each other's arms close, his arms, her eyes. By her side.

Part of you melts into me

It is two weeks, and two days since Charlie has walked into Emma's kitchen, when there is a knock on the door.

Bass swallows as Charlie holds his upper arm with her slender warm hand.

Another conversation at Emma's house, not too long ago. He sees her again. Miles there. Hours of talking. Understanding how one fucked up mess decision set his whole life of course. He missed so much, forgiveness needs to be found for that one day. Today it not about that. But he knows, he knows, the carefree thing he once shared with Emma is now over.

'I did love you Bass.' She tries, as the blow of anger and disappointment and so much hurt are already there.

'And you are telling me this now?' Tears fill his eyes as he looks at her. He wants to move over to her, but that is the old Bass. The new Bass has lost his mum and dad and Claire and Angela, but still has family, brotherhood, the people in town. And most of all, the love of a brother, Miles. A fantastic woman. Charlie.

He had stepped away from Emma as Pete, her dad, had nodded for him to better go. He would see his son, and he would find it in himself to have some kind of relation with Emma, because they were parents, and that meant the other personal shit came second, the being there for a child came first.

It is two weeks, and two days since Charlie has walked into Emma's kitchen. Bass listens. Waits. Feels in the room that is the living room of his mum and dad and Claire and Angela. He wants to meet Connor here for the first time, where the warmth and love and cheers and giggles of the people that are with him are still there, as a generation pass. Takes a deep breath.

Miles opens the door. He hears tiny feet shovel in the hallway.

Brown curls, his unruly maddening in the morning curls, walk in. They fall with lightness around his face. A green shirt, big eyes that look up at him.

He draws in a big shaky breath.

Connor.

Emma is standing close. Miles is in the corner of the room.

Bass looks with his mouth open to his son.

You won't be anyone's kid anymore.

You won't ever be a big brother.

But then the kid's dark eyes look up at him.

But you will be a father.

His voice is unsteady and warm and roughly with a warm note as he walks over to the kid. His kid. His son.

Connor.

'Hey buddy,' he crouches down before him. He has wondered what it would be like. Seeing his kid. What it would be like. And the recognition, the ultimate love, the feeling of there is nothing he would not do is there. Immediately. Unconditionally. Strangely there, but still there.

Connor looks up at Emma. Then looks at his dad and gives him a grin.

'You are my daddy.' His tone is sweet and his lift of his chin is impressive for a four year old. He is sweet but strong. Bass can sense it.

'Yes, I am little man.' Connor nods. Later, they will have to explain, and fight, and deal with how a decision will affect this little child's live. But not today. Bass will be there for him.

But now a new father and a new son walk to the couch together.

As it is Charlie who gives Bass two glasses of juice for Connor and Bass to share on that couch.

As it is Miles who stands in the corner, grinning but at the same time tears are glistening in his eyes. He remembers, the hours of talking with Emma's dad, with Emma. How slowly the decision unravelled in talking. Emma got pregnant, one fast night Bass, and Bass went to basic. Emma had found out. Emma told her parents. Who were furious, at Emma's direction in parenthood instead of choosing to end the pregnancy or go for adoption. Emma refused to send her child away. But also refused to go to college. And the anger of that decision, and the torn anger of parents, made her walk away from telling Bass, to keep it indoors, a land away from the love she did feel for him. The lie became a truth, where people around town believed Connor's father was a mechanic from a couple of towns away. The lie ended here today. As Miles sees Emma giving Bass some space, but he can also see that Bass has stepped away from Emma, emotionally. Charlie stands next to him as Miles feels her warm hand on his back.

He grins, presses his tears away as they move to the kitchen.

'Let's give Mini Bass and Bass some room,' Miles says. As Connor shows Bass a toy he had brought with him and Bass lets the toy go through his hand when he asks Connor what the name of the toy is.

'Batman,' Connor answers slowly. He looks from the action figure back to Bass. 'You have big shoulders like batman.' Connor points at Bass' shoulders as Bass rumbles with laughter.

'I do huh?'

Connor nods eagerly.

Bass looks up for a split second, and meets Charlie's eyes. She smiles. She is there.

Charlie nods, her heart swelling at the natural protectiveness and hesitant but determined with love to be there for his kid from Bass.

A little less than a two years later

Touchdown.

He walks down the stairs of the plane. His boots hitting the steps. Miles' eyes suddenly falling over his shoulder as he gives him that shit eating grin of his.

Miles nods, that nod of him with that smile he knows, that warm giving grin. He follows his nod.

And then, she sees them. At the gate of the base. Charlie next to another smaller figure. His smaller hand in his. His heart jumps with the feeling of home. As he can almost see the smile of his mom and appreciate stern steady nod of his dad with love in his eyes, and Angela with carrying love in her eyes and Claire with her hair blowing in the wind. A five year old boy. Dark curls, smiling with Charlie, both of them friends already. Charlie has been great with him. he owes her for that, for her kind unconditional love. And then she smiles.

He can feel it the moment she notices him. It hits him. She smiles. This time at him. A little girl on her hip, as she points from the baby girl Rose, Rose after the rose in the garden of his mom and dad, where they made love and life, by her side, on that night on the porch, who is wearing a white yellow sand colour sunhat, to him. His girls, his son. The swelling of her belly promising so much more.

His brother walking next to him as the walk down the stairs. Leaving the plane behind as he moves to his family. Connor rushing towards him, ignoring any kind of protocol. That's my kid, he smirks inside.

He gets down to his level.

'I missed you, kid.' He looks at Connor, goes through his hair in a playful way.

'Look Daddy,' the boy is a bit shy, 'I got a new truck.' Connor shows him the little truck in his hands. 'And later I will have a brother or sister.' He smiles at Bass.

'That's right, kid.' Bass grabs Connor and holds him with stretched arms high in the air, making Connor laugh.

And then he turns to her. To Charlie. Kissing his daughter on her little hairs, the little warm sounds and smell of his daughter in her arms.

And then he looks at her.

'You came back.'

Looks at her with dark deep blue ever so meaningful eyes that belong to her.

His hand is on her cheek now. And then he pulls her in for a long smothering kiss.

'You're home baby.'

'You're mine baby.' She kisses him, 'Welcome home, Bass, we've missed you.' She looks at him, with that trusting look. He looks back. Miles comes in between, demanding a kiss from his niece too as he goes over the heads of the children in loving playful embrace with his hand.

Bass looks at the way Miles nods to Charlie. This was his last tour. He does not want to go. Not anymore.

He moves his arm around his family as Miles walks with them. After making some comments about all this mooshy gooshy shit of course. That's him. That's his brother. He feels Charlie hair blow against his scruff in the wind. As he walks his family towards Base.

He is home.

He is home. As time compresses, life, love, grieve, lost, gain. All of it, that makes life this bitter sweet ride.

He is home, with them.

The End

 

Authors Note One more chapter to go after this one everyone! The epiloque! The scene at base was actually the first scene I had in my mind for this story. I loved writing this chapter! Hope to meet you in the next chapter,

Love from Love


	9. Plain sunshine

Epilogue

Twenty years later

Bass walks to the small table near the window. A tray, glasses of fine glass that belonged to the family for as long as he can remember. He pours himself a drink, realises he is his dad's age when they had to say goodbye. He sees him, smiles. Grieve has moved back and prevents him no longer of missing them with a heavy heart but still honour their lives. Gail Monroe. William Monroe. Angela Monroe. Claire Monroe.

On this day, a special summer day, he expects them in his memories.

It is a normal Saturday afternoon, but nothing is normal about this. Because his family will be here.

Nothing is normal about family.

Family is ever all that is.

They were here. He makes sure people remember their names.

Bass looks out of the window. The small town life is just as ever, a gentle reminder that live moves on. Even without Emma, who died in a tragic accident on the town square. A gun accident gone horribly wrong. Bass has been there, as he said goodbye to his child's mother in piece. Even without others, but new children and foks come here. Grieve turned into softer grieve. Grieve turned into a house that never left the family. It is their home for the summer, where it is Charlie that works in the city as a communication strategist and he still trains new Marines, to keep the peace everywhere where needed. Home is where they are together. Softer grieve turned into remembering.

Into being something you never thought you could be. Fulfilled. A parent. A best friend. A lover. A brother.

Connor, he is bringing home some wild girl. He looks firm. Already gave him the whole speech about maybe trying to choose another girl.

He looks with tensed jaws. Whiskey glass in his hands.

Well, he is just like his dad. The little photo of a young Connor with his arms wrapped around Rose and Oliver, two brothers, one sister, as she is the highlight in the picture with two proud smiles. Nor Charlie, or Oliver or Rose, have ever not made Connor right at home.

Charlie walks into the house. She is magnificent at forty. She looks at Bass. Broad back, feet straight in the living room with that whiskey glass that never leaves his right hand. She can picture him like that, everywhere.

Charlie moves behind Bass. He grins at her. Rose is in college, his boy Oliver away with friends before he will follow his sister there.

Charlie playfully moves her fingers under his shirt. He smells like whiskey, and the leather jacket he picked up somewhere on a road trip with Connor.

'I just wish the kid would bring home somebody else.'

'Yeah, because you never ever had a wild girl before, right?' Charlie says, a smile in her voice.

'I used to know this guy. This though Marine, black leather jacket, abs to die for.' Charlie says, licking her lips.

'Hey, you watch yourself. ' He growls. He is fine with her teasing with a little reference to him, but he does not need a reminder of the men she has been with before. And somehow the corner of his mind always fabricates a couple there. That Neville punk, engraved in his mind like in a damn report, who married a girl his mom had picked out of some catalogue of perfection. Fucking guy with his white teeth. And then some other guy at bars. He might be an adult now, or whatever the fuck that means, but it still gives him one hell of a mood and he does not like the idea of other guys touching her in the history of ever.

But then Bass grins. He still has the jacket, and dammit, he still fits it. Thinking of the things Charlie likes to do to him as he likes to do to her in the bedroom, where he needs to stay fit for. The kitchen, bathroom or couch are damn fine with him too.

To remind her of who much she is his, always and never changing, he presses a long passionate kiss on her lips as he presses his cock against her belly. The whiskey glass is downed as he moves the glass away, his fingers now playing with the jeans wrapped around the inside of her thighs, of her body he has his eye locks on and since well, the history of forever.

Charlie laughs.  _Smug basterd._ She won't make it too easy.

To tease him she presses her knee up and into the vicinity of his balls a little harder than she has to.

'Hey, you watch it again,' he mutters in her air, dark control with rough voice that makes her wet, too wet, already for him.

'Aaand it is still a joy to find you with my niece every damn time.' Miles sighs, as he walks into the kitchen.

'You ever heard of knocking?'

'You ever heard of not putting your tongue in my niece's mouth.'

'Dickhead.'

A stern glare as Bass watches Miles.

'Moron.'

'Your kid here yet?'

Charlie looks at Miles. It is good to see him, smiling again. She knows the marriage was over for a long time. She also knows Miles and her mom, they probably had to give it a shot. It wasn't pretty. She knew that. But she is not one to judge, she also speaks her mind. But she is loving. Open hearted.

Charlie laughs as they hear a car.

'There he is.'

A young man gets out of the car. Black jeans, dark belt, shirt, buttons, scruff on his jaw, dark curls. All attitude, all pure arrogance in the eyes every now and then but also all goodhearted. Maybe he is like that, he is a Mini Monroe. Charlie once made that reference but she learned quickly men don't like when the name 'mini' is used with any reference to their manliness. It earned her a fast look from Connor, a poke in the ribs from him and a wonderful smile afterwards.

Next to him is a twenty two year old girl. Al blazing attitude, big smile and dark blonde curls in the wind. He throws an arm around her. She looks open and strong. Charlie likes her immediately although she knows Bass' concern about his son settling down with someone. She knows Connor will do eventually, but not now. He is like Bass when he was younger, needs to live, feel, date, smile that Monroe smile of his. And then, he will find that woman. Bass did. And she is happy to be there every day.

'Charlie!' Connor smiles at her. Introducing the blond next to him as Corin.

'Kid!' Bass sais in low welcome as he throws an arm around his kid as he goes through the curls of his son. He still loves it. Connor still hates it. Or maybe not, he is a Monroe after all. They are all tough and strong, but behind that hard exterior lays a gentle heart and loyalty.

They have dinner outside. Of course then the fire is made. The fire he taught Rose and his son to roast marshmallows, as Connor played endless hero stories with his action figures. They managed to come through together. As Miles is telling stories to Connor and both men drink beer. They did managed to come through together. Their little group always did.

He watches the buzzing in the garden.

And then he hears welcome noise in the living room. He turns.

She smiles, that warm wide generous smile of hers, that life never managed to change. Thank god it didn't.

Rose presses a kiss on Charlie's cheek. 'Hey mom.' She drops her bags.

'Turned out, one can need a little break from college.'

Charlie knows she loves both her parents, but Rose and Bass, it is a strong connection. Father and daughter. Girl and strong caring father. It makes her heart stronger.

And then, she turns to affectionate fatherly eyes.

And then strong large arms are circled around her. He grins, takes her in, that sweet scent that he knew from the start. Because she is his girl.

'Baby girl,' he whispers generously in her ear, 'it is good to have you home.'

'Daddy,' she says, as Rose gives Bass a hug. A long affectionate one, the one that makes her burry her nose against his chest as he pulls her close.

Oliver will be home later, right now he is much like his dad. Away, flirting, enjoying life. Bass wishes nothing more for him. He will probably crash in later, drinking a beer with the guys as he pulls an arm over his son's shoulder.

He smiles that amazing grin of his.

Home.

Charlie reciprocates. As she is still the fire that he makes loves to, or sometimes it is just a quick stimulating fuck or adventure in the garden. They do it all, with love, with respect, with eyes that need the other.

Home.

And then, Connor sees her, smiles warmly as he hugs Rose. And Rose hugs him. As it is a laughter warm smile in the garden. Somewhere around them other people, dear people smile with them. Bass just knows.

A lot of hey's. Miles hugs her too. 'hey kiddo.'

'Uncle Miles.' She smiles back.

Charlie. His children. Miles. Ben. Danny. Connor. Once Emma, the mother of his child. His parents, William, Gail, Angela Monroe, Claire Monroe. Them all. There, richness in people.

And then he walks out on the porch.

'They are here, you know.' Charlie says.

She looks up at Bass. As she stands close to his tall everthere muscles, and she stands leaned up against his side.

He just nods. He knows.

He stand there, with her next to her.

Charlie stands there, next to him.

As he realises this is his home, his people, his family. The people they love always travelling with them through time.

As they are by his side, as much as she is with his, and he is by her side.

He turns around one more time before they head out to join the others, the fire warm, the night clear.

Bass looks around the house as he sees the faces of pictures that tell the story of generations, Rose's first step, Charlie laughing with birthday cake on her nose. His son, his youngest showing where his first tooth had fallen out. Connor graduating from high school on the same steps he once stood with Miles. Miles himself, as he toasts into the camera with a laughing Charlie behind him. Danny and Charlie, where Charlie has a protective arm around her, both still kids, innocent at life, the fire of a sister and the warm admiration of a brother already there. That one where Ben smiles at her, pride in his eyes, his daughter close, her hair against his chin.

'Love you.' He mutters into her ear.

'Love you.' She says, confident, without the unnecessary sentiment that is not them.

They are strong, they are also jaded, but they are there for the other. Their love, their bound is like a light in a world without.

And there, on the wall, as Bass feels Charlie, watches her and his family, as Charlie feels warm strong arms around here, with the wood of the porch as strong and well painted as ever, something Bass still does for his mother, all sweet people there, in his garden, There on the wall, that one with him with his arms around her and she grabs his underarms firmly.

The way how they were when they were young, the way it always will be.

_Note: The moment with Bass and Rose, was a little nudge to the moment with Charlie and her dad. I loved writing grown up Rose, and the warm kind, but still strong and plenty of ego Bass. A change to let him be there with a baby girl he never got to see in the normal universe of Revolution._

_This story was about love, life and family. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing this. A new chance to look at them, with timelines crossing._

_My notebook is still filled with ideas, and most of all, stories I wanted to find an answer to. A new start, publishing soon._

_With gratitude for you all,_

_Love from Love_


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